New York City Serenade
by StrawberrySab
Summary: The title idea comes from one of my fav Bruce Springsteen's songs. Since he played TGW's soundtrack last week, I adopted him too :) AU In one year from now, Will is living in NYC. Alicia has the chance to meet him.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N 1: The opening quote is from "A nice welcome back", it's kind of a sequel but can totally stand on its own.**

**A/N 2: Dear Kings, if Will leaves without walking into the sunset with Alicia, I'm gonna come after you.  
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><p><em>o-o-o<em>

"_One year." Will's voice was a bare whisper. But the quiet of the deserted firm and the importance of that promise made it sound like a scream. A scream to the world that in one year they would try and give themselves a real chance._

_o-o-o_

They never did it. Instead, one year later she was sitting with Cary in her kitchen, ready to jump ship and to batter down the last bridge that still tied her to Will. How did that happen? Somewhere down the road her priorities had changed. Somewhere during one too many stolen kisses, heart and mind, desire and common sense, started to clash, irreparably. Somewhere down inside of her, fear had decided to team up with duties and responsibilities, leading her to a choice that changed her life forever.

All in all, she can't complain. She loves her firm, she loves working with Cary, he's proving to be one of the best friends she's ever had in life and the only person to incite her whenever she's on the brink of breaking down.

But sometimes, when things are calm and her mind has time to process the events, when at the end of the day she comes back home alone and feels that something is missing, only _sometimes_ she regrets it. Was it that the vote tampering scandal had broken her – and her marriage - apart for the millionth and last time? Was it that with the hurricane that was Will's resentment gone, she suddenly felt forgotten, apathetic and aimless? She's not sure, but since the day he left to run the new LG branch in New York City things have never been the same again. One year. She hasn't seen him or heard from him in over one year.

At the beginning, his memory used to barge into her mind more often than she demanded, until slowly but inevitably he fell back into the oblivion, engulfed by the routine.

She spent fifteen years without him. She can do it again- _Adjust to not having him around_. Not anymore. As a friend. As a lover. As an enemy. It doesn't matter. Eventually all the sadness funneled in a corner of her mind where she can easily control it, ignore it, draw from it when needed, when pain is unbearable. It doesn't happen often. She's afraid to lose the rein on her past. She's afraid that if she allows herself to think about him for too long she will end up unable to close that drawer again. And it hurts too much.

It hurt when he left, it hurt when she slipped into his office to say goodbye, like an intruder, and her murmured apologies crumbled in the void of what used to be his corner office. She had arrived too late. It hurt when her attempt to call him turned into a voicemail likely to be either ignored or lost forever. It hurt when every morning she woke up thinking that they would never again bump _by chance_ into each other in a heated face-to-face trial session until eventually she got used to live without that adrenaline.

Today she has to meet a client in New York City. At first she didn't think about _it_. She said okay, booked flight and hotel for three days which were already more than needed. At least she thinks that, because with these wary moneybags you can never know. She prepared her best speech and the most convincing arguments as if she had to face a hostile jury, determined not to fly back home without a signed agreement. Maybe if she was brilliant enough she could solve it all in one day.

But then… it happened. She dared to open that drawer again. It hadn't been intentional. It's like when you keep pressing stuff and stuff into the closet and one day it explodes, immersing you with everything you tried to hide. She remembered a dinner, she remembered a terrace with a breathtaking view of the city. She remembered a glimpse of happiness.

_This is crazy romantic_.

She shivered.

_It's just a memory_.

Memories belonged to the past and were supposed to stay there. She was going with a purpose; ensuring her firm an important client.

Still, the more she mulled over it, the less frightening became the idea that maybe, only maybe, she could call him, say hello, ask how he's doing. Maybe they could meet for a quick coffee. At worst he would say no. At worst he would say yes.

The little she knows about his current life is through Diane. Her former boss never discloses much; just that little enough for Alicia to know that he is fine. She drops discreet hints and Alicia is not sure whether it's better or worse because she'd rather not think of him.

But now she craves and dreads at the same time to hear him, to see him. And it takes her two hours of staring at his new number to muster the courage to make that call. A message left to his secretary that she's staying in New York for three days, an invitation for him to call her back, so he can conveniently pretend to be too busy or blame his secretary for miswriting her number. It's the perfect plan. She thinks he won't call. She believes it. She hopes it. She fears it.

Her first day goes by with his silence. He hasn't gotten back to her. He hasn't called her. Neither has his secretary, not even to politely decline her request with some lame excuse.

But when on the morning after her ringing phone shows a number she can't recognize, her heart skips more than just one beat as she realizes that it might be him.

She swallows, flips her hair in an unconscious gesture, then finally answers. "Hello." She hopes that her voice doesn't come out as too quivering. She can feel her hands getting sweatier and sweatier with each second.

"Hey." The male voice on the other end is quiet, a bit distant. A voice she hasn't heard in over a whole turn of the calendar. A voice that still has the ability to give her the thrills.

She closes her eyes for a moment, savoring the echo of those few letters. She has to remind herself to breathe. And to answer, before he thinks she's gone or dead. "Hey," she whispers.

What should she do? Wait for him to say something? Ask him how he's doing? If he got her message? No, this would be stupid. Of course he got it or he wouldn't be calling her right now.

"How…" Their voices choruses, causing them both to stop.

She can't help but laugh softly at the awkwardness and she is relieved when on the other end she hears something that sounds a lot like a muffled laugh. "How are you doing?" she finally asks.

Such a prosaic question but it's all she can think of. And honestly enough, what would you say to someone you haven't heard from in more than you want to remember? _Do you still hate me? Have you forgotten me? Do you still think of me sometimes? Do you ever ask Diane of me?_

"Fine. You?" His telegraphic answers are softened by his voice being almost a whisper.

Alicia has no idea if he's being cold, faking uninterested, trying to control his emotions, or what else. But behind that apparent calm, she wants to believe that if he took him a whole day to call her back, it probably means something, whatever that something may be, it's better than nothing.

"Fine," she repeats. "It's been a while."

He doesn't say anything but his silence that doesn't sound like silence at all. What is he thinking? Reminiscing the good? Dredging up the bad? Her lips clenched in tension, she waits for him to say something. She wasn't expecting it to be all warm and congenial but never to be so tense.

"Yes," he confirms with a deep sigh.

She can easily imagine him look down and away. "I'm in New York," she attempts.

"I know. My secretary told me. Work?" he asks with what is his first complete sentence.

"Yes. I'm leaving on Friday," she explains, though he's supposed to already know it.

"Okay. Good. Day-tripping while you are here?" he jokes.

"Not really," she laughs. "I was thinking…" She stops, as her former idea of meeting seems less and less like a good one. She exhales. It is just a meeting. Two old friends. Two old lovers. Two old enemies. Two people who for a while shared something and now moved on with their lives. " I don't know… maybe we could meet somewhere. Coffee, lunch…"

She's made her move. It is up to him now to take it or leave it. In two days she will be back home again, back trying to forget him, to forget his voice, kicking herself for even trying this. He moved to a new city so he didn't have to see her again, why in this world - or in any other - would he want to meet her now?

"I… I have a very packed agenda for the next two days, we are working on an important trial," he excuses himself.

_Of course_.

She shakes her head, smiling bitterly at her stupidity. He could have easily asked his secretary to call her back and decline or just not call at all. Instead he called to make the rejection more stodgy. One year of distance hasn't changed anything, it seems.

"But there's a restaurant across my office's building, nothing fancy or particularly refined," he explains.

_Restaurant? _Wait. He isn't declining?

"If it's okay for you we can have dinner there tonight," he asks, his voice clearly faltering.

"Dinner?" she asks, convinced that she must have misheard.

"It's just that… it's close to the office so I don't risk getting stuck in the traffic and trust me you have no idea what New York City's traffic can be at rush hour," he apologizes.

She has to breathe and breathe and breathe again at the anxiety that the word dinner is giving here, but she accepts because part of her would die if she didn't get a chance to see him. "No, of course, dinner it's fine."

She hears a voice in the background. Someone calling his name. "I have to go to a meeting now, I ask my secretary to call you back with the directions and the name of the restaurant so you don't get lost."

"Okay, see you later."

When she hangs up, she needs a moment to take in the mix of excitement and fear that the upcoming event gives her. She realizes she has nothing suitable for such an occasion. Everything she brought is either very businesslike or very casual. So she enters the first shop she finds on her way and ends up buying a nice dress which costs her an arm and a leg and she doesn't even know why. Businesslike would have been perfect anyway. But for some inexplicable reason, she wants to look special. And red is her color. It has always been.

When Will's secretary calls her one hour later, she's already in a sweat and nearly drops the phone. She orders a chilled bottle of red to the room service and sips it as she gets ready, because maybe if she's slightly drunk she won't get to the restaurant with every nerve of her body twitching in an irrational ballet. Though on second though she's not sure what's worse between being nervous and drunk. But with every little sip she feels her worry assuaged. Whatever happens tonight, whichever is the outcome of this dinner, she'll be back in Chicago in two days; quick enough so she won't have the time to brew any kind of afterthought. Far enough so she can't rethink anything. Back to her life – at least what's left of it after the scandal took away from her good part of what she had. In the end, she has nothing to lose, does she?

The loosening effect of the alcohol has already evaporated by the time she reaches the restaurant and she regrets not having treated herself with one more glass. She has no idea if Will is already inside or still at his firm. Instinctively, she turns to stare at the building across the street. It's probably fifty floors, maybe more. She sees a lot of lights on and her mind tries to guess which floor is LG. She has no idea. Knowing Will's newly found ambition, it's likely one of the highest, if not the top.

She inhales as deeply as she can. It's pointless to postpone this moment. And at the end of the day, she's the one who phoned him in the first place. If anything, Will is the one who should feel anxious. So she plucks up some courage, lifts her chin and walks into the restaurant with all the self-confidence and boldness she can rely on.

With a quick glance, she takes a picture of the inside. Will's description of the place, though rough, was pretty accurate. Not fancy, not elegant, very simple. It looks like one of those places where quality wins over quantity. She resists the urge to scan every single guest, instead tells the waiter there's a reservation under the name Gardner and waits for the girl to show her the way to the table. But when she spots the familiar figure - yes, he still looks _familiar_ in spite of everything - already sitting at the table, she halts. It lasts a moment. She doesn't want him to notice she's a turmoil, actually a volcano of emotions. She puts on a vacillating smile and when he's in full sight she greets him with an excited hey.

He still looks the same and she finds it ridiculous to even make such a consideration since it's been only a year, though it seems more like a decade.

His smile is warmer than she remembers but it can be a figment of her imagination, for she can't even say when she saw him smile last. Or was happy to see her at all. The strong smell of cologne brings back memories she tries to ignore. His grey suit tells her that he's probably come directly from his office and freshened up there. He looks a bit tired but overall the same old Will. Slightly boyish, attractive like always.

He returns the _hey_, calm, all composed-looking, but his eyes betray him. They always did. He eyes her up and down with discretion and observes, "You look good."

"You too," she returns the compliment, suddenly shying and she prays that the blusher and the soft lights are enough to conceal her flushing cheeks. When he doesn't offer a kiss, or a hug she's relieved and a tad disappointed at the same time. He moves her chair so she can sit and she appreciates the sweet cavalry.

For a while, they just sit in silence, stealing furtive glances at each other, maybe pondering what can be said and what's better left neglected. The waiter puts the awkwardness on hold for a while as she invites them to order. Eventually the initial embarrassment has to come to an end and Alicia is happy when Will is the one who breaks the ice between them.

"How have you been?" he asks with a soft voice she knows all too well. He's obviously privy to the news. And she always suspected he probably had more involvement in Peter's downfall that he ever admitted, but in the end she never faced him openly. Would that change anything? Would that take away anything to Peter's guilt? This is not why she's here tonight.

"I've been fine. Wiped the slate clean. Gave a fresh start. Reset my life." It took her way too long to realize what was in the end the best for her. For once she put herself above everything else. For once she took her kids' words into real consideration and did what was really the best for her family. No more façades. No more shows. No more limbos. No more scandals. She was done with that life.

And the irony in it all was that it was Will's departure to give her such awareness. Most people would have considered his move as an escape, as a sign of weakness, the proof that Will Gardner wasn't worth his reputation anymore. In the cat and mouse game, he had become the latter. For her it showed courage. It takes guts to cut with the past and restart from zero. It was what she never found the strength to do. She had kept choosing the easier way out, she had always chosen not to choose. Even when she started her own firm, she had done it out of fear. She had chosen the coward way out of Will's life.

"Sounds familiar," Will hinted with a half-smile.

"Yep, I guess so," she nods.

And as their dinner is served, conversation finally gets more relaxed.

Still, she doesn't dare to ask anything personal. She's not sure of what she wants or doesn't want to know or how much he's willing to share so she asks him about the firm, about New York, he jokes about the strong competition there and how it's weird to be in a city where nobody ever heard of LG. It was a challenge inside the challenge.

"You belong to this city," she observes, with a shadow of admiration because he finally looks like himself again.

"The city that doesn't sleep. I always thought it was a metaphor until once I found myself walking down the Fifth Avenue at three in the morning," he jokes.

She laughs at the image of Will walking down the dead-night streets, Tony Manero style.

"But I miss Chicago sometimes," he clouds a bit.

"It's still the same as you left it. Chaotic, grey, polluted and corrupt."

"Nice picture."

This time she just smiles. "Very true to reality." She lower the gaze, grabbing the opportunity of his nostalgia to admit how much it hurt when she couldn't wish him goodbye. "I tried to call you," she says softly.

Will stiffens a bit in his seat. "I know."

"Okay." At least she now knows he tried to avoid her on purpose.

"I couldn't do it," he adds, gravely, yet with a shade of apology in his voice.

"Do what?" she asks, confused.

"Hear whatever you had to say. Was it an apology, a goodbye or an attempt to make me stay. I would have ended up changing my mind and blaming you for the rest of my life. I had to do it." His words rip her with their bluntness.

If she had ended up making him change his mind, she would have probably hated herself too. There was too much going on in her life back then. He had left right in the middle of the storm. In retrospect, his departure had saved them both.

"Yes, now I know it," she admits for the first time.

Her words fall into the silence. They both take a moment to understand where this all conversation is leading. Trying to make amends? Clean the conscience? Make things clear once and for all? It's hard to say.

"Why did you want to see me?" Will asks out of nowhere.

Or so she thinks. "I don't know." And sadly enough, it's the truth.

"I'm happy you did," he says, his gaze peeping discreetly at the other tables. He always does it when he's too nervous to look straight into her eyes.

"I'm happy too," she agrees.

And when his eyes are back on her seconds later, she takes a long sip of wine because she knows that gaze enough to recognize that it means trouble. Regardless of his intentions, it makes her weak on her knees.

Conversation and looks start to grow in inverse proportion with each minute that passes. The more natural becomes the conversation, the more charged and intense become the glances they exchange in a crescendo of tacit coo. One year apart didn't change anything. They are still in that same old place. One year of distance annihilated, vanished, rubbed out like charcoal pencil, blown away like autumn leaves. She leans forward and before she's aware of what she's doing, her fingers are brushing his, very delicately. For a moment she's lead to think he doesn't even notice, until he looks down at their hands then back at her. She can't say he's totally lost but he clearly expects her to say something. She doesn't know what. But she regrets her audacity and retreats, wishing she could disappear into thin air.

"Why did you really want to see me?" Will asks again. And this time his tone accepts no lies or pretexts.

"I guess I missed you," she confesses.

Will's features are tense. He sits back, tension is suddenly strong again. "This won't make it easier."

"Neither it'll make it worse," she answers back.

"And tomorrow?" he asks quickly, giving her no time to pile up more arguments.

_And tomorrow? _She remembers posing the same question, a lifetime ago, to a friend. And she remembers how her answer had made her laugh. It sounded so wrong back then. It sounded like something Alicia would never do. It's been only a few years and it amazes her how she's not that same Alicia anymore. "Tomorrow we wake up."

"You will regret it," Will puts into words what she already knows.

"Would you regret it?" she questions him back.

"I regretted a lot of things in life." He smiles but the imperceptible blow that follow his words is bitter, ironic.

"Have you ever regretted me?" Does she really want to know?

"At times," he admits.

He regretted her. He regretted having her. He regretted loving her. His brown eyes, hurt and lost in the distance, tell her that he's probably regretting her in this exact moment too. You should never regret love. Did she hurt him that much? Did she hurt themselves so much? "I should go back to my hotel, it's getting late," she whispers, offering them both a way out of this misery.

"It's already late," Will's words halt her as she's already standing and about to leave.

"What does that mean?" And she really can't seem to read him.

"That it doesn't matter if we will both regret it," he caves in, gaze down.

She fights hard to calm the flock of butterflies swarming erratically in her stomach, as roughly twenty minutes later Will closes the door behind them. It feels a lot like a déjà-vu, with the only difference that the hands on her body and the lips which taste hers slowly at first, then devouring her mouth, are not unknown anymore. It's reliving senses that had been buried alive. It's welcoming back a passion that wasn't banked enough, thus never really extinguished. It's opening the door to a hurricane, knowing it'll blow you away. It's, ultimately, that one too many dresses that makes the closet explode. In this moment she doesn't care. He still feels exquisite inside of her, his body still covers her with that same passionate care. There will be time for regrets tomorrow.

When she wakes up the morning after, it takes her a moment to remember where she is. She's neither home, nor in her hotel room. And as the cold air of the early morning makes her shiver, she realizes that she's definitely undressed. She can see the flakes of a light snowfall, probably at its beginning, falling through the window, making her shiver unconsciously even more. Lying on her stomach, she turns her head to the other side of the bed. Will is still sleeping. _What did they do? _She knows she'll regret it the moment she leaves this room. But in this moment, it still feels crazily good. For a brief instant she considers slipping out of the bed and of the room before he wakes up so she doesn't have to face the heartbreak and the embarrassment that come along with any parting words. She knows he'd never call her or search for her and it would be cowardly convenient enough to just cut and run. But she can't. She can't bring herself to leave. She can't force herself to go and turn her back on him. She slides against his resting body. He's warm and it feels good against her skin. And when he stirs in the half-sleep, she smiles. She always loved to wake him up. And if memory is not failing at her, he always loved to be woken up by her, especially by her wearing nothing. But this time it's different. It feels so much like the umpteenth goodbye and it makes her sick in her stomach. Her gaze wanders up and down, she studies every muscle of his body, knowing this is really going to be the last time.

"I told you that you were going to regret it," Will whispers, catching her off-guard.

Her gaze stops somewhere above his pectorals "I am not."

"Then why so sad?" he unmasks her.

"Because I have to go and I don't want to," she whispers, hoping that neither her voice nor her eyes say what she'd rather hide from him. It's much more than that.

"I'm going to miss you," he admits, looking at the ceiling as if it could make this moment less painful.

It doesn't for her. It probably doesn't for him too.

"Me too." Words leave her mouth barely audible. She has to leave this room before she starts to cry, looking more miserable than she already is. She gathers her clothes, scattered all over the room, and gets dressed as fast as she can. She's running away again but for some reason it feels like this time the tables are turned and she's the one bleeding more.

Will was right. She's going to regret it but for the wrong reasons. It doesn't feel like a mistake at all. It feels like another missed chance to make him her own. She kisses him softly. "It was nice to see you again." And her voice is already cracking.

She doesn't even turn back to give him one last look. She grabs her purse and coat and runs out and into the snow. She gets lost twice on her way back to her hotel and when she finally reaches the safety of those four walls, she drops everything to jump into the shower and forget everything that's not client-related. But when she takes the phone from her pocket she notices the flashing warning of a text message. No name, but it doesn't take her long to figure out the sender. "Forgot to tell you that I'll be in Chicago in two weeks for the LG board meeting."

_Forgot _my ass, she thinks, but as she does, her lips are already curled up in a smile. Tentative at first, then brighter, a genuine one like she hasn't in years.

One year of distance changed nothing and everything, it seems.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: There was a time when we all cried out "No way Will is ever going to move to NYC! Just no!" I'm sure that more or less all of us changed our mind in the meantime. This was supposed to be a oneshot, but in light of what happened on the show, I made it my own fix-it story. I don't plan anything long, probably 4/5 chapters. As I said, it's just a fix-it. **

**This chapter is Diane/Will (so you don't ask where is Alicia by the end of the chapter lol) Enjoy 3**

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><p>It's only when he lands at the O'Hare airport and walks into the terminal 3 with his carry-on baggage that Will realizes how much he misses Chicago. There is this moment of adaptation, of settling back - for a day or two - into a place where he spent more years of his life than he can remember. A city that belongs to his past, yet it will always feel like home, it will always own a significant piece of his heart.<p>

He spent a whole year in New York City but he sometimes still feels like a stranger there and he knows it's not the place, but the people around him. It's not the same when you are welcomed in the morning by a smiling Cheryl and a Starbucks coffee instead of by a Kalinda marching in with her pocket agenda and the determination of her stiletto heels.

It's early morning and the sun is still halting, hiding behind thick cotton clouds that threaten snow anytime soon. He wraps himself up tightly in his coat, smiles as he hails a taxi and recites the still familiar address.

Chicago.

The sky that's never crystalline; the cool wind that makes the weather so unpredictable, though most of the times enjoyable and breezy, even when in New York City you're already stifled by the sultriness; the cold, metallic background of the EL and its trains running over your head. And the unmistakable smell of spicy chicken wings coming from the diner across the street of the LG's building, reminding him that in a few hours he's going to meet Alicia for lunch.

The anticipation shakes him a tad. He has no idea what to expect, where they stand, what their encounter in New York City meant in the first place. His rational inner self tagged it as one night stand. It's much easier to handle it this way. No involvements, no expectations, just a credit to what they once had, which is something he can't really define either.

He closes his eyes and breathes in, then rests a hand on the glass front door of his former _home_ for a second before finally deciding to get inside.

A 29 floors ride up on an elevator that still holds too many memories. 29 floors that used to run too fast or too slow depending on the company, and the speed has inevitably always been in inverse proportion to the pleasantness of his riding companion. A ding that makes him look up, still today, to check if the ride is over, and most of the times it's not. And when the right number lights up, he composes himself, adjusts the tie and steps out. It's relatively early, twenty minutes to the LG board meeting. This grants him enough time to look around with no hurry and join Diane for some required gossip.

He takes in with gratified pleasure that she didn't change anything, excepting a couple of paintings she never liked and that are gone, replaced by portraits of God knows who those people have been in some past century.

He waves discretely at his old secretary, who welcomes him with a beaming smile and points at Diane's office to let him know that she's there.

He doesn't walk in straightway. Instead, he stops in front of her office and observes with a content smile his old name partner. The picture is familiar still today. Her glasses on, she's typing lazily on the laptop. If he still knows her like he used to, - and he surely does – he can safely guess she's not getting any real work done but only trying to kill time until his arrival.

With a soft knock on her door, he lets her know that she can just stop pretending. He doesn't move as she looks up, her lips already imperceptibly curled up as she takes off her glasses; then she offers him one of her heartwarming smiles.

Only when she stands up he finally opens the door of her office to greet her halfway.

"Will…" His murmured name is the only thing that leaves Diane's mouth before she rushes to hug him.

"I've been away for only one year and you've already replaced my paintings?" he jokes. And her hearty laughter is so contagious that he can't help laughing himself.

"So, what's the latest from the Big Apple?" she asks as she invites him in and points knowingly at the scotch.

Will nods with no hesitation. He misses the good old times. He misses burning the midnight oil, throwing casual glances at the corner office in front of his and see her deep into her papers. Though he can't complain about his new partner. Richard is a good company, a willing drinker and a baseball aficionado. A good match in the end, unless their teams play against each other, which luckily only happens twice a year. "The latest are that we got Ryan Nichols," he spills with no false modesty, then stares expectantly at Diane.

She offers him a glass, then sits back on her chair. But her blank look is not what Will was hoping for.

"Who's Ryan Nichols?" she asks confused, then wets her lips with a small sip from her glass.

_Who is…?_ "Ryan Nichols, the Broadway actor, he's everywhere." He offers hints that she doesn't seem to get and his whole picture of impressing her goes to hell.

"You have a way of making me feel inadequate," she reproaches him playfully.

Will embraces the opportunity to tease her a bit. "You should ask Kurt to take you to the theater more often. How is he doing by the way?"

Diane raises a brow and smiles, genuinely happy for Will's interest. At least she looks like it. "He's doing fine, thanks for asking. So back to this guy, what did he do to need a lawyer?"

"Drug dealing." Two words spoken with ridiculous calm and gravity. Two words that for both Diane and Will have the same funny meaning. Though there was a time in which they didn't find it funny at all.

Her stare is one of astonishment, but Will can see she's sniggering up her sleeves. "Are you kidding?" she asks.

Will laughs mildly, entertained by her reaction.

Diane gapes a few times, then looks away between incredulous and laughing. "What's with you and drug dealers?"

"I missed Bishop," he jokes with all the seriousness he can fake, which at the moment is scarce.

"Speaking of," she gets serious, as she sits back in a pose that Will knows very well is a faux attempt at being nonchalant; then she brings one finger to her lips pensively.

And Will knows he should prepare himself inwardly for whatever might come.

"Have you heard from Alicia lately?" Her gaze shifts, slightly uncomfortably, between his eyes and the traffic of associates outside her office. Will turns slightly and spots a delegation from his own branch. He waves at the partners. It's almost time for the meeting. When he looks back at Diane, she's still quietly waiting for an answer.

Alicia. That name always used to have such a cumbrous effect. The same crushing impact of a piano thrown down by a ten floors height. Apparently it still does. And it usually always ends in the same way; with him lying under the free-falling piano like a modern Wile E. Coyote. He swallows. _Why is she asking?_ In no way she can know they met only a couple of weeks ago. Or about their lunch arrangements. Or can she? Will scrutinizes her attentively, keeping the shadow of discomfort at bay. He can't really tell Diane what happened between them, but at the same time he has a feeling that a lie would be a much worse idea. So he chooses the harmless truth in the middle and skips every unnecessary detail. "Yes, a couple of weeks ago, why?"

Diane doesn't move. She seems to study his reaction, measure the significance of his words from behind her sturdy desk. It's something that always made him feel guilty even in absence of crime. The power of a not really clear conscience.

A deep sigh announces her words. "I made a proposal to her and Cary last Friday. It'll be discussed in today's meeting."

_A proposal._

He mentally repeats the list of topics from the agenda that reached his email roughly three weeks before. He tries to remember if there was any additional point he might have missed. His memory is usually good. Diane is talking about last Friday. He should remember. "It wasn't in the agenda," he points out. He sort of feels tricked, though he has no idea why. In the end, Chicago doesn't belong to him anymore. It should be none of his business what kind of proposal Diane might be offering to a firm that in the end still represents an enemy.

"No, it wasn't," she admits.

He nods, uncertain if he should ask or just wait for Diane to spill it. Eventually, curiosity wins. It always does. "I feel like I'm out of the loop and missing something. What kind of proposal are we talking about?"

"I proposed to merge back our firms."

The placid, almost toneless voice in which she speaks these words puzzles Will. It takes him a moment to understand what Diane is telling him.

_Oh._

If it weren't for her tense, restless gaze, he could think she's talking about the weather. Or Stock Market.

"Okay." He nods, but he has no idea to what. What would that mean? That Alicia would become Diane's name partner? There is some wicked irony in that. His mind goes back one year and a bunch of months in time. To the day he was the one offering her the name partnership. And a sarcastic half laugh escapes his mouth as he remembers how everything went to shit at the speed of light. With a gulp of scotch he helps down those words. _I proposed to merge back our firms._ One more sip and he feels better.

"Things changed, Will. A lot." Diane poses her glass and rests her elbows on the desk, giving a more confident feeling to their conversation.

"Yes, looks like it," he nods again. But his ironic smile is gone. He honestly has no idea how he feels about it, about the fact that the moment he left, things seemed to get back to peaceful. What happened that led Diane toward considering to join forces with Alicia and Cary? For what he remembers, the war was still in full swing only a few months ago. But again, he wasn't here, was he? "Why them?"

"Because this war is damaging both firms. We keep poaching the same clients back and forth, jumping on the same cases, on the same witnesses and pieces of evidence. And clients start to use it against us. Peter's scandal didn't hurt only them. We still have clients who were brought in by Eli! You saw the figures yourself. Add to this that I'm tired of fighting against my own partners. With David Lee it's everyday a struggle for existence," she blurts it out with clear frustration and a theatrical motion of her hand.

Suddenly New York City looks like a happy oasis. He's dumbstruck, as he realizes that he hasn't missed any of this. He hasn't missed David Lee, or any other partner, for what is worth. Present company excepted, of course.

"I made them the offer, but I wanted to talk this out with you before it gets official," she murmurs. "So far only David knows and you can imagine yourself how happy he was with my move."

"What did they say?" he asks. For curiosity more than anything, since he has little say in the matter, anyway.

"That they would consider my proposal," Diane replies, this time more calmly.

"Good."

Is it really _good_?

"You don't sound like _good_," Diane observes, as she tilts lightly her head to the left.

"I'm just… confused?" His conflicted feelings come along with a hinted shrug.

"You shouldn't be. We are all moving on in our own way. You chose to leave. I'm choosing to try and bring back things as they were before. Sort of."

Will is about to speak, to respond that no, he can't see how things could ever get back as they were before after everything that happened. But his words remain a thought, as a shy knock on the door interrupts them. Diane's secretary informs them that the partners are ready and waiting for them in the conference room.

"We will discuss this later," Diane promises, as she stands up, walks to the door, then stops on the threshold, waiting for him.

Will nods to himself. He suddenly feels uncomfortable. He's going to meet Alicia in a couple of hours and for the life of him he can't picture one single reason for which she should have omitted to tell him something like this.

The board meeting unfolds like every other meeting at LG. It's a time jump in a past that makes him laugh in amusement; at the biting exchanges he's not used to anymore between David and Diane, at Howard's inept remarks; at the astonished glances of his gang who isb latantly not acquainted to this tested circus. Nothing changed, really nothing. Included the side glances he gets when Diane mentions Alicia's name. And more partners than he hoped for feel the compelling need to look at him. He has to exploit a lot of patience and self-control to ignore them. Gossip seems to never die.

It's past noon when the meeting is over. It lasted more than two hours, and at least forty minutes were wasted in pointless repetitions. On his way out of the conference room, he casts an impatient glance at his wrist watch to make sure he's not going to be late for lunch.

"Hungry?" Diane asks.

He's taken a bit off guard, for his main care is not really about eating but about the company. "Just making sure I'm not late for a meeting," he replies vaguely.

"Some old friend?" Diane hints with an innocent smile.

_Some old friend. Let's stick with that definition, shall we?_ "Yes, something like that," he confirms, trying to appear nonchalant.

"Just so you know it, you have written _guilty_ all over your face," Diane susses him out.

Busted.

"It's only a lunch," he hastens to point out. Though on second thought, his mental alertness can only make it worse. Diane certainly has an idea of what their lunches used to look like. He considers adding that he really means lunch, but he fears getting stuck in a blind alley, so he gives up and opts for a less harmful silence.

"Don't forget you are already booked for dinner." She looks at him askance, as she reminds him of their plans for the night.

Will acknowledges the arrangements with a nod, then salutes her. He really has to go. After the conversation they had, he's looking forward to this lunch with even more anticipation.


	3. Chapter 3

Will's gaze shifts with sneaking impatience between the traffic of people outside the window wall and the unoccupied seat in front of him. He came in a few minutes late, and unless she's a no-show, it's clear that Alicia is late, too.

His conversation with Diane is still very vivid in his mind. _Merging the firms._ The twenty minutes' drive from LG to the restaurant gave him enough time to reflect and to start assimilating the news.

On one hand, he can understand Diane's motives. Yes, he saw the nose-diving figures. And yes, the two hours meeting gave him a very accurate idea of David Lee's grown belligerency. But then… his mind can't help going back to the day he was the one who offered Alicia the chance to take Diane's place. And it doesn't matter that the situation was different, that he had just been betrayed by his best friend and partner, that he was so naïve to misread Alicia's hesitation. It feels like a betrayal inside the betrayal. Fitful flashes of Alicia sitting in his chair blind him with an unmotivated trace of jealousy. He should be happy for her. Or so he assumes. Maybe even congratulate her on the opportunity? In the end, he was the one who left. He lost any right to claim back the seat long ago. Or didn't he?

Still, he can't get rid of the unpleasant, nagging thought that he talked to Alicia only the day before and she didn't consider it necessary to mention even a single word about it.

Someone opens the door and the background noise of rush hour's traffic invades the restaurant for a few seconds. He looks up at the new guest, instinctively, while his mind is still trying to elaborate some reason behind Alicia's silence. And it takes him a moment to grasp that it's Alicia indeed who's standing in the middle of the hall, peeping around in search for him. Black coat on, her briefcase in one hand, she's probably arriving from court. With a faint wave, he catches her attention. Her answer is a tense half-smile, as she quickly approaches him with long, elegant steps.

"Hi," she greets him as she places the briefcase next to her chair, then takes her coat off. Underneath, she's dressed in the same dark color.

"Hi," he greets her back with a hinted nod.

The tight-fitting cut of her dress accentuates her slim figure and her tiny curves and he finds himself looking away as she sits in front of him. _This is not why we are here_, he has to remind himself. _This is not why we are here. Lunch. Talk. Where do we stand? The merger._ He brushes up on the list of topics they need to talk out to divert his mind from a beauty that seems to have always the same effect on him.

_The merger._

"I'm sorry, I'm a bit late, got stuck in court," she apologizes. She always does, he observes. She always feels the need to apologize for something except when she really should. That's when she usually gets defensive the most.

"I've just gotten here too." He shrugs the unnecessary _sorry_ away. And suddenly they are sitting in front of each other, dealing with the always embarrassing, awkward silence that inevitably comes between the greetings and the icebreaker. And if it's always hard to find a good way to start a conversation, this time there is a clear tension in the way their looks meander restlessly and it's obvious to both that this lunch will be a piece of bitter cake.

When the waiter approaches them with the menu, Will is almost grateful for the momentary interruption. His eyes linger discreetly on Alicia. It took him a whole year and an absurd amount of commitment to get over her. And he thought he did, he _really_ thought he did. Until one dinner belied him. Until that single night together blew the dust off a passion that had clearly never burned out.

"So," he says, but doesn't really say anything. His gaze is fixed with excessive concentration somewhere between the starters and the wide choice of first courses.

"So," Alicia repeats with a shred of discomfort in her voice.

He blinks at her with discretion. The uneasiness is seeping through her eyes, too, and through her shyly peeping smile. And all he can think is that this looks nothing like how he had pictured it when he set foot on Chicago's soil only a few hours ago. In his mind, they would have a quick lunch, consumed among burning looks of lust and sheepish laughter, then do what they always do best; try to work out their feelings with actions in lieu of words and end up complicating them even more. Though he can't imagine how they could honestly get more complicated than this.

They parted ways one year before on the worst terms, never heard from each other deliberately, until two weeks ago, when their dinner culminated in highly-charged, incandescent sex in a hotel room. He came with the highest hopes just to get them crushed by Diane's words. And now, graphic bits from that night alternate with the voiced _proposal_ and _merger_, giving to the whole an unsettling feeling. Nope. It can't get any more complicated than this.

Yet the conversation has to start at some point and this time he was the one to call, to take the first step. So he closes the menu decidedly, straightens up and gives her full attention. For a moment he's tempted to jump right to the point, to question her bluntly about her intentions. But deep down in his heart, he's not ready for that. He wants to just enjoy lunch and the company of a woman for whom he evidently still feels more than he wants to admit.

"So, how were the last two weeks?" It has to be the lamest of all the lame icebreakers and he might as well have asked about the weather and get the same zero impact.

But thankfully Alicia seems to think otherwise, as she gazes at him pensively, then sighs. "Intense," she summarizes it.

_Intense_. Yes. He approves with a nod her choice of wording.

"Will…"

He knows that tone. He still recognizes it from all the letdowns and the heartbreaks. And even if it's been a lifetime since the last time she pronounced his name like that, with such a low-pitched gravity, the feeling is still the same.

"Yes, I know," he agrees to the unvoiced notion that they have screwed it again. At least that's what his words do. Because every cell of his brain is instead silently screaming at him to at least try to put together a decent defense. The waiter approaches them to take their orders, interrupting his conflicted reasoning. Will opts for lasagna and hints a smile, not surprised by Alicia's choice of beef tenderloin and salad. He can't even remember the last time they had lunch here together, yet her predilection for that dish is a memory that didn't get lost with time. When the waiter leaves, they can resume their conversation. The brief pause hasn't taken away any of the previous awkwardness.

"It was a mistake," she declares, resolute in the appearance.

This excuse never gets old.

"A giant one," he pretends to agree.

And he hopes that his eyes don't go snitch. He hopes that Alicia's ultra-slow nod is her way to internalize his words and not his lie.

"Then, why are we here?" she shrugs and looks away. Her gaze hustles with clear uneasiness, back and forth between the traffic outside and the crowed tables.

"To acknowledge that we made a mistake?" Will offers. _To make a new one_, he would have said before the cold shower. "I don't know."

"There is the distance," she begins, and her tone leaves no room for doubt that the list of bricks building the barrier might be long.

But there is some flaw in her justification that makes him hint a smile. "There was the distance also in your marriage," he points out.

The look of amusement and weird disbelief she gives him makes him reconsider his objection. "Okay, well, maybe this wasn't the best example I could pick."

Alicia's burst of laughter catches him off guard at first. This is unquestionably the most embarrassing lunch he's ever been to, and the conviction that neither of them really knows how to handle their situation is sort of comical. He can't say if she's trying to find a way out or a way in, if she expects him to persist or simply agree that they are not worth another round of mess. "Should we just pretend it never happened?" he asks, handing the issue off and back at her.

"I don't know what we should do," she grumbles. Her hands shake restlessly, leaking all the nerve for a situation with seemingly no way out. "It wasn't planned… what _happened_…"

"I think we can agree on that," Will concurs, nodding with decision, and he fails to suppress a soft laugh. That was definitely unplanned, nevertheless he wouldn't change a thing of that night. He revives with a half-smile the moment she walked into the restaurant, dressed in red, and the unmistakable skipped heartbeat when their eyes met for the first time in months. He swallows the tingle of excitement as he looks back on the feeling of his hands caressing her soft skin. It's all playing in front of him, bright colors and all. "Though it was… _good_," he offers for lack of better words. Any other adjective would sound inappropriate right now.

"Yes. One more _good_ thing to regret." An imperceptible exhale escapes Alicia's mouth.

_Regret._ He loathes the sound of it. "Is it?"

She stares at him, wide-eyed, confusion seeping from that magnetic look. "What?"

"Is it something to regret?" he dares to question, already fearing the answer.

"It's…" Alicia hesitates, maybe pondering a perfect choice of word? "It's… a complication."

A complication. It hits him that they are probably getting to the point. "A complication in what?"

Alicia opens her mouth, ready to speak, or so it seems. When she suddenly stops and looks up, Will instinctively follows her gaze. The waiter is there with their orders. Everything smells good exactly like he remembers it. They thank the guy as he leaves. And Will is grateful and nervous at the same time that they can finally talk undisturbed. For a while they sit in silence, simply enjoying their lunch. It would feel perfect if it weren't for the merger discussion swinging over their heads like a Damocles's sword.

"There is something we should talk about," Alicia finally admits, as she lays her cutlery on the plate and looks up. Her eyes on him, there is no indecision in her stance. Actually, she looks the opposite. Probably ready to attack so he doesn't get the opportunity to hit back.

"Like when are you moving to your new office? Oh wait, to _my_ office." Words leaves his mouth unfiltered, with an unkindness that's not intentional. It's definitely his subconscious having the upper hand.

Alicia gapes. For a fraction of second she's taken aback by his bluntness. "Should I read in your sarcasm that Diane already told you?"

"I think that the real question should be why I learned it from her instead of you." This is the point, this is why he's angry. Not angry, rather disappointed. For some reason he believed he deserved to hear it from her.

"Will…" She leans closer as she speaks his name, unfaltering, definitely bold.

"There is no Will. There is a question." And quite an easy one, he considers, as he peeps around to summon a much needed composure. Suddenly all his appetite is gone.

"Because I wanted to talk to you face to face and know what you think about it before I decide," she retorts, looking not one bit intimidated by his reaction.

"What do _I_ think?" he raises his voice in disbelief.

Does it matter what he thinks? Since when? It never did. Why should it be any different this time? She didn't ask him what he thought when she broke up with him or when she decided to leave LG. He never had a voice in any of the questions that really mattered to him.

"Don't worry. You don't have to say anything. You've already given me the answer I needed."

Her impassive glare and cold tone pop into his self-esteem for an instant, - if he's lucky, not long enough for Alicia to notice. "I don't even know what you were expecting from me. Congratulations? A red carpet? What?"

When Alicia goggles, he knows he succeeded in breaking through her self-assurance. His eyes are locked on her as she looks away, breathes in, then shakes her head in evident letdown. Or maybe exasperation.

"I don't know what I was expecting from you. I was just hoping that one year would be enough to get over it."

_One year. _

_Enough to get over it. _

Has she really just said that? His memory jumps back to two weeks before, to the piece of paper Cheryl handed him; on it there were a phone number and Alicia's name with a note. _Call back_. He wasn't the one to start it again. He wasn't the one to reopen something that, now more than ever, looks like was better left closed. "Get over what exactly? You are the one who searched for me only two weeks ago."

An ironic exhale. And she looks like she's back in warrior mode. "I don't recall you protesting too much," she counterattacks.

"I can't believe we are still ending up in the same place," he laughs with a bitter irony.

"I just… I…" she stumbles over her words, then halts and looks away. When she gazes back at him, she appears back in control again, calmer. "Things have changed, Will," she almost whispers.

Her quiet tone seems to pacify the spirits.

"Yes, I've already gotten that speech, thanks," he retorts, but this time his voice is controlled.

Alicia shrugs, almost imperceptibly, probably in resignation. "Then why would that bother you so much? Will, answer honestly; do you really think we could have worked as partners? Professionally I mean. With our history and all the complications of our feelings?"

_Yes._ "Why not?"

"We would have ended up mixing the two," she declares, firmly.

This sounds so familiar. It's history repeating its course, cyclically. "I wouldn't have. _You_ would have. You always did." Some wounds never heal. They disappear from sight, hide under the skin, ready to burn again, more painful each time.

"Great. Then put all the blame on me. If that makes you feel better. This doesn't change the fact that Diane offered a merger and I have to make a choice," she wraps the issue up.

Sadly, it's true. It was Diane's offer. And if he still knows Alicia, he can count on the fact that she would never intentionally lead Diane towards such a choice. Not to mention, he can't see how it can make sense for Alicia to leave her own firm in the first place. But there is this thing with Alicia, she has the ability to intensify his irrationality. And the idea of her sitting at his desk obfuscates his dispassion. "Would it change something if I said no?"

"I don't know. Probably. I just… I'm not sure of what's the best thing. For me, for the firm. For _both_ firms."

_The best thing…_

"It's not about me and you, Will. It's about me, you, Diane, the firms, about clients who are doing more harm than good. We are all tired. You left Diane alone. And I don't mean it in a bad way, I'm not trying to play with some sense of guilt. You left for your own reasons. And it's fine. But… it got complicated for everyone." She doesn't seem to catch a single breath until she's done explaining. Only then, she inhales deeply, sits back with an expectant look.

He imitates her gesture and sits back, too. The increased distance seems to ease the tension. A lot of what she says makes sense. A lot of it still leaves him confused. "Why would you want to give up what you worked so hard for?"

"I'm not giving up anything. Diane has been an incomparable mentor and a fair, determined boss. If anything, becoming her partner could only be a further improvement," she says with gravity.

He knows it's the truth. Diane might have had countless biases against Alicia, against her name and its influence – not always positive -, against the use she sometimes made of it and, last but not least, against her personal involvement with him. But she always did her best to hide it. "I don't recall you speaking of her in such terms when you left," he observes, trying not to sound petty. He only wants to understand her reasons.

"It was a different situation and you know it, too. The last months at Lockhart & Gardner had been wearing, the first at Florrick & Agos even worse. We made mistakes, we fixed them, that's how it works," she shrugs.

Will takes in her words in silence. They all made mistakes. Mistakes which piled with more mistakes until the situation fell inevitably apart. "Do you really want it?"

Her intentions are clear. And on second thought, she was right in not wanting to discuss this by phone. Now he gets it.

"Yes," she says very simply, no hesitancy, no signs of uncertainty.

And all he can do is to nod. "This still doesn't resolve us," he points out, reminding her that they still don't know how to deal with what happened, how to _define_ what happened in the first place.

"Can we be resolved?" Alicia attempts a half smile. She looks at him, unhopeful in appearance.

There is a shadow of sadness in her eyes, he knows that gaze too well. It hurts every single time.

He refuses to think that they can't be resolved. They are more than evidently less _over_ than they both believed. And he doesn't care if he has to take a flight or drive six hours to meet her. He has every intention to give it a try. "Yes."

Alicia opens her mouth to speak, probably to protest that no, she can't see how they could ever fix this mess.

But Will stops her before she has the chance to cut his arguments in two. "Look, do you really want to pretend that nothing happened? To go back trying to forget? We tried and obviously failed or we wouldn't be here talking about it now," he makes a point.

"It can't work," she shakes her head, faintly.

"What are you afraid of? What do we have to lose?" Nothing, he wants to answer to his own questions, but he knows that eventually Alicia will find that single reason he's overlooking.

He locks his gaze on her, determined not to let this go until they come out with any solution that is not a goodbye for good. And that's when his phone starts to ring. He checks the id and growls in frustration. _Cheryl_. He presses the red button with no second thoughts, then gives his full attention back to Alicia. "My secretary… I'll call her later. So, you haven't answered yet. One good reason to keep pretending we are over for the rest of our lives." The last time he told her they would talk it didn't end the way he was expecting. He won't let this happen again.

"Because… it would lead nowhere," she explains.

He shakes his head. Confused. It makes no sense. Nothing makes sense right now. "I just don't understand why you keep doing it."

It takes a moment for Alicia to grasp his words. "Doing what?"

"Reopening doors just to close them again," he confronts her, already half expecting her to deny.

But when she simply stares at him, wordless, he knows he hit the nail on the head. In the glacial silence, the sound of Alicia's phone ringing is almost deafening. Will struggles to hold back more cursing as she checks the id and shrugs apologetically.

"I have to take this," she murmurs.

He looks around, trying to divert his attention from her conversation. The two words he fails to ignore, _your_ _honor_, are not promising for this lunch. When she hangs up, he looks at her waiting for the unavoidable.

"I have to go back to court, jury already returned the verdict," she apologizes. "I'm sorry, we didn't expect this to move so fast."

"It's okay." It's not okay.

He watches carefully as she stands up and takes her things. But she doesn't leave. This abrupt goodbye only makes their situation worse.

"When… when are you leaving?" Alicia puts an end to this embarrassment.

"Tomorrow morning," he answers, not really sure where this is leading.

"Can we talk later?" she asks.

Will is hesitant. If this has to end, there is no point in twisting the knife with more talking. Unless his words have made her reconsider her position. He doesn't dare to ask. "Of course."

For a few interminable seconds she stares at him but doesn't say anything, probably taking in his promise, maybe pondering how far they're both willing to go. "Okay."

And when she leans towards him and places a soft, yet decided kiss on his lips, he unconsciously holds his breath. That mouth will never stop tasting perfect on his.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Yeah, yeah, I know, it's been a lifetime. Better late than never :P**

* * *

><p>The clink of two stem glasses meeting in a toast rings amidst subdued conversations, capturing Will's attention. He turns his gaze to stare at the two young women sitting at the near table, deep into a celebration. Absent-mindedly, he raises his own glass and slowly sips the white that lost all its cool during the course of the dinner. The restaurant is half empty, making the talk with Diane more relaxed and very enjoyable. He'll never admit it to anyone – he already has a hard time admitting it to himself - but he misses the peaceful ritualism of their nighttime drinks. He remembers enjoying them back then. He clearly still needs them today.<p>

He felt a tad temperamental, definitely pensive, after his lunch with Alicia ended like it ended; in the usual senseless, devious nothing. He didn't mention anything about his contract to her, not that he had the chance, anyway. And on second thought he's glad he didn't.

Two years. A two years obligation with the new LG branch and then absolute freedom to decide what to do with his life and his career. In all truth his choice was already made the moment he left Chicago one year before. Two years were meant to be the beginning of the rest of his life. Any other option had never been called into question.

Alicia, specifically, wasn't contemplated.

She's the glitch in his plans. She's the work in progress that makes you leave the highway for gravel roads. And what disturbs him most is that he still has no idea where the new road is going to lead him.

"I'm sure I lost you but I don't know when and where," Diane's serene voice pulls him out of his reflections. There's a hint of amusement in the way she eyes him up and down.

"Sorry," he admits, defeated, shooing away the unsought - and undeniably ill-timed - parenthesis. The last thing he wants tonight is another history lesson about his irrationality and emotional involvement winning over common sense.

"Is it about the merger?" Diane asks straightforward, certainly remembering his not really enthusiastic reaction from their earlier meeting.

He smiles, confident that he can still elude the discussion. "It's about a lot of things." His gaze evades Diane's one, because he knows best than to let her read him. But when out of the corner of his eye he catches her leaning forward on the table and folding her arms, somehow he feels his attempt has already failed.

"You're not having second thoughts, are you?" she questions him with that trace of reproach he knows all too well.

"No." He shakes his head with a bit more resolution than needed.

And for a moment, Diane eyes him inquisitively, up and down, definitely weighing the honesty of his denial. "But..." She invites him to spill what's eating him.

"I don't know. It's just… I guess I get homesick sometimes." He shrugs off, over-nonchalant, trying to leaven his own words and poke some fun at himself at the same time.

"The idea you might miss a snowy Chicago worries me," Diane jokes, her noise turned up in a terribly concealed amusement, as she raises her glass and hides behind the last drop of her wine.

Not that a snowy New York City is any better. In both cases it's a gelid inconvenience though, for some reason he can't define, Chicago doesn't smell so cold. "I'm playing the sentimental card, you should play along and admit you miss me."

"So you can gloat and sneak back in?" The hearty laughter as she speaks these words is contagious. "Men. Always thinking the universe should turn around you."

"When did male psychology become your wheelhouse?" he kicks back, glad that his diversion seems to have worked.

And when Diane knits her brows in confusion, he knows he succeeded. "Is that supposed to be some metaphor I'm not getting?"

"Yes, in memory of the good old times," he confesses with a mild laugh.

"This won't give you back your office," she chastises him for pulling her leg. "Speaking of…"

Speaking of… This can only lead to one topic. "No." He smiles, but his tone is resolute and the way he drags the denial refuses any further talk.

"No what?" Diane shrugs, but probably already knows the answer.

"We won't be talking about that." _That_ being Alicia, but it's needless to pronounce a name they both know.

Diane's features soften in that overly-protective expression he won several times in the past. "I just want you to remember why you left."

"I didn't leave for her," he rebuts the implied inference.

For a moment, a tense silence falls between them, as they both measure his words. But set before Diane's questioning look, he yields, rolls his eyes and partially admits the truth. "She was only a part of the package."

"I don't want the merger to become an issue," she murmurs what's probably her first worry.

"It won't," he reassures her with a faint nod. "On a lighter note, when do you plan to visit the Big Apple again? Now I'd be a perfect Cicero," he boasts and winces in a facetious grimace.

"Guided tour of every night club in Manhattan? My heart could not survive the excitement."

"You have no idea," he agrees.

"I'm fine with not having one," she declines the invitation with a warm laugh.

What remains of their dinner goes by in quietness. Will is relieved that she doesn't press him any further on a topic that's still so opaque for him. When they part ways, Will checks the wristwatch. It's almost eleven. In less than twelve hours he has a flight to catch. He promised Alicia they would talk but his afternoon took a different turn and before they had any chance to do it, it was already dinner time. Bad timing never misses a chance to get in their way. He hails a cab, recites the destination. His hotel. It's late and his lightly clouded mind tells him that he clearly drank more than he realized. But somewhere down Michigan Avenue something awakens him and he reroutes the taxi driver. He can't let things untold for the millionth time.

* * *

><p>She doesn't know what's still keeping her up. Hope? Resignation? Letdown? Huddled up on the couch, Alicia sips her red with ceremonious slowness, then looks up at the ceiling, glass in hand. Eyes closed, she enjoys the quiet of the late night. Things didn't go as she expected them to, and it strikes her now that it's a paradox, since she wasn't supposed to have any expectation at all. Will is going back to his life in a handful of hours, so what's there to say that wouldn't make it worse? Maybe it was better this way. They'll go back to stacking unsolicited memories in the same old creaking drawer, like nothing ever happened. Once more. She's become pretty good at it, perfected by years of practice.<p>

She starts as a faint knock on her front door surprises her, but only in a measure. The image of a closing drawer is still in her mind when she has to reconsider her thoughts. Unhurriedly, she puts the half empty glass on the coffee table, stands up and wraps herself in her nightgown, chilling when her bare feet meet the cold tiles.

As she walks to the door, it all feels like a déjà vu. With the variant that this time it's definitely not about work and the scenery is completely different, except for the veiled apology in the eyes of the man standing on her doormat.

"Hi." Will's greeting is a whisper, as if he's afraid to disturb, or interrupt something.

She thinks that if she's still up, there has to be a reason, and this visit is all but a bother, whatever its outcome. "Hi. It's…" She hesitates, refraining from saying late because it would sound wrong.

"…late. I know. I'm sorry." Will finishes the sentence for her.

She smiles faintly, accepts his apologies with a shrug as she opens the door wider to let him in. "No, it's okay."

She looks down insecure, a tad defensively, as he steps in and walks past her, then halts a few feet further on. For a moment he appears lost. It seems a lifetime since he's been there last. She shows him a way he certainly still knows into her living room and as she sits back on the couch she points at the bottle of wine in offer. An offer which Will declines politely with a wave of his hand. Judging by his face she can't say if he's already half drunk or simply exhausted and in full need of what remains of his lucidity. So she just sits silent and follows him with her gaze as he sits on the sofa and looks down. His fingers intertwining in front of him are not promising anything good, neither is his smile; slightly forced, with a restrained bitterness in the curve of his lips.

"I think, you and Diane together would make a great team," he states, his quiet voice in contrast with his clear inner tension.

Alicia simply stares at him and silently takes in his words and their meaning. She nods weakly, then gazes down. She feels a bit let down by a choice of topic that's not exactly what she was expecting. But then again, when did she start having expectations to begin with? Somehow she manages to crack an appreciative smile. "It was never my intention to…" replace him, take his place, whatever, she stops when he shakes his head and she knows any further word is redundant.

"So now what?" she ventures to see how the land really lies. Is that the only reason for him to be here now, this late? To tell her he's not bearing any grudge against her? Against Diane? In her heart of hearts, she's still weakly hoping for more.

His smile gone, he appears calm, almost detached. His shrug reveals that he's most likely defeated from the start. "You were right. It would lead nowhere."

Her breathing halts midway, choked by words she heard before. She keeps up the serene appearance but inside his utterance has the biting impact of an iceberg. _It would lead nowhere_. In the end they are her own words. But somehow now, coming from him, they taste wrong. And it doesn't help that Will's eyes are brimming with a familiar pain. She knows it's another end but this time she has no idea who's closing the door to the other. She only knows it hurts and regrets the moment she reopened it. Will was right. He'd been right all along in warning her that she was going to regret it.

"Whenever you say I'm right, I always get the awkward feeling that I'm not," she attempts a joke that Will takes in with a faltering smile.

He stands up and as she glances at him, she can't help but think that he's holding back something, but she doesn't have the heart to dig further in. In a few hours he'll be back to his life, a life she clearly doesn't belong to anymore. It would only be pointless to pour more salt into the wound.

She follows him to the front door and stops right behind him. Her hand reaches the handle and rests there. She realizes their lips are only inches away from each other and the proximity is tingling and uncomfortable at once. She could stop him. She could prevent him from letting her go. She could but she doesn't. She opens the door, freeing his way to the outside.

Still, she's not sure she wants that door to close for good again between them, and takes her last chance. "I'll probably be in New York City again soon, firming up the last details with a new client."

Her offer doesn't seem to get completely lost on Will, who nods and smiles. "Maybe give a call when you are in the area."

"I will."

When he's out of sight, disappeared into the elevator, she leans against the doorjamb, pensively. She feels somewhat relieved from a weight but at the same time hauled down by a new one she can't define. In her imagination, things were meant to go in a completely different way, and this leaves her... _empty_.


	5. Chapter 5

_**A/N: Thanks for letting me live enough to write and post another chapter. It was really appreciated. And thanks for all the warm reviews, intimidations included :P**_

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><p>When she steps out of the elevator and into the LG reception hall with Cary, Alicia drifts into the still fresh past where she left this place and in all the reasons, right or wrong, that led her away from here. Not in a million years would she have imagined that one day she'd be back and under such different circumstances. In a few minutes they are going to meet Diane to discuss the last and most prickly details of the merger. Both for the importance of this professional change in her life, and for the sense of edginess of the last few days, Alicia is a bundle of nerves. The bureaucracy is probably going to entomb them all and that doesn't help either, but it's sadly a necessary and unavoidable step.<p>

As they wait outside Diane's office, her gaze falls inadvertently on Will's one. It's an old habit, strengthened over the years, that struggles to wane. She never liked to meet his empty chair and still doesn't today. There's an incompleteness of some sort. It's been only a week since his visit. Seven interminable days during which her overactive mind has been stewing and jamming, on and off, falling back unfailingly to the few words exchanged in her apartment. She knows she would have ended up making the same choice, with or without his approval, but his words the night he left somewhat lifted that horrible burden off her scruples.

She peeps around, her curious gaze meeting the equally curious – and sometimes skeptical – ones of a few staff's members walking by with disastrous discretion. It definitely feels like being back home, although to a home where something is missing. She hints a smile, content with the idea of being here, though at the same time she knows it's not the same place and people she left. Not all the associates at Florrick & Agos accepted what in their eyes was seen as a downfall, and she doesn't blame their choice to fly off.

The discussion is not devoid of some strain. Cary's hostility is no secret, and the monetary share specifically has always been the primary bone of contention, but by some means they manage to find a reasonable compromise. _Will would never make compromises, he never did. But he's not here, is he? Things change and we have to adjust. _

Seventy-something minutes and a bunch of split differences later, the merger is finally defined in its tiniest details and ready to go, the newly found alliance sealed with resolute shakes of hands. Standing and about to leave, Alicia is stopped on the doorway by Diane, who gently asks for one more moment of her time. With a nod and a quick exchange of looks, she tells Cary that she'll join him in a minute, and when he's out of hearing she gives Diane her full attention.

"I still can't believe we did it," Diane jokes, but the relief in her modest smile is undeniable.

"We really did…" Alicia nods and smiles back, still unbelieving that they all came out unscathed from the meeting and that gloves didn't come off.

"Is everything okay?" Diane murmurs, a touch of thoughtfulness in her voice.

At first, Alicia is a bit baffled by a question she can't understand, but she does her best not to show it and hints a smile. "Sure, why?"

"I know that the personal involvement might make everything more complicated," Diane explains quietly, and the way she emphasizes the word _involvement_ gives away what she intends.

Alicia stiffens. Imperceptibly, but she knows her body betrays her. "There isn't any involvement," she denies, banishing the thorny truth with all her being. "I learned not to mix things that shouldn't be mixed." Her features are impassive, but inwardly she's smiling bitterly at the absurd insincerity of her own words. _You're mixing things. I never do that. _It's an eternity but Will's words still strike her. Her gaze falls back on his office, this time purposely. Empty. Ironically enough, his absence sort of proves him guilty of her same lie, doesn't it? "Diane, can I ask you something?" As she looks back at her now equal partner, she notices her staring at the same clean desk.

"Of course, what?" Diane agrees, shifting her gaze back on those present.

Alicia hangs back, not totally sure she should ask this. She suspects there is an element of personal involvement, of a different nature from hers but even so deep. Yet, she gives it a try. "Why is Will's office still empty? I mean… I was expecting… Well, I don't really know what I was expecting." For vultures to swoop on his seat, she assumes and laughs mildly.

Diane's soft laugh reassures her that her question didn't cross any undefined boundary.

"I don't know," Diane shrugs, her eyes back on _his_ office. "I guess I never believed he would really stay in New York after his contract's expiration, but I was clearly wrong."

_His contract's expiration?_

Alicia gapes, unable to process the information, her smile starting to vacillate. There are definitely some clues missing. Her furrowed brows in confusion, she hesitates then repeats that single word. "Contract?"

"Yes, the biennial contract for the new branch's management," Diane answers in all calmness.

A two-year contract? What does that mean? That he was supposed to be back? That the branch in New York City was just some sort of break? What's supposed to happen to him after those two years? "I… I thought he had just… left." She has to summon a good amount of self-control to hide the effect this piece of news has on her and judging by Diane's regretful look, her endeavor is a complete waste. She has to go back a week in time to try to gather the hints she missed or overlooked along the way. She remembers the impression he was holding back something the night he left, and now wonders if this is what he didn't want to share. Maybe she should have pressed him. Or maybe not?

"I… I thought you knew." Diane's murmured words can do little in this moment.

She didn't know. Will didn't tell her. Will probably didn't want her to know this detail at all. Her mind is intent on that deadline, as she looks up and shakes her head faintly in reassurance that Diane did nothing wrong. "It's okay." _It's not okay. This is not one bit okay_.

"I'm sorry," she apologizes.

"You really shouldn't be," she offers a half-smile, but knows that Diane's apology comes on behalf of someone else.

/././

A two-year contract. Her mind can't think about anything else. Two years, then… then what? Why didn't Will tell her? And how did he even think she would never know in the first place?

Alicia strides restlessly, back and forth, from corner to corner of her living room, her silent phone in her hand. She's subjecting to an imaginary questioning a man who's not even there and has likely no intention to be, her upheaval simmering, more and more close to erupting at each step she takes.

Two years.

Two. Damn. Years.

One gone, that means he could be back in one more. He _could_. Because Diane's words and disillusion told her that it likely won't ever happen. And in the end she shouldn't feel betrayed - after all, for what she knew he was never meant to come back - but somehow she does.

At first she's mad. At him. At herself. She's hurt and feels almost tricked into believing that maybe they could have been _something_. This changes everything, right? Or not? In the end he was gone for good. Contract or not, he decided to leave. Then why all this fuss about something that was never meant to happen anyway?

Her breathing is deep and erratic when she finally makes up her mind, stops in the middle of the room and starts to tap furiously on the screen, searching for the number she saved.

At the first ring, she's resolute not to mention anything about the damn contract.

At the second, her determination is already wavering. Maybe she should actually let him know that she knows?

By the time she hears his voice on the other end, all her resolution has brightly gone to hell. "You know, it would have been nice to know about your two-year contract from _you_," she spits all in one breath. Not a _hello_. Not a _how are you doing_. And it feels liberating.

But Will's grunt is an unequivocal sign that he doesn't feel the same way. For a few seconds he just remains silent.

Searching for an excuse? Working out a retort? Knowing Will, it might easily be both.

"It would have been nice to know about the merger from you but that didn't happen either." Eventually, he tries to get even.

_It's definitely the second_. "Oh come on. We…"

"What would have changed?" Will's question cuts her protest.

What would have changed? Nothing? Everything? She's being taken away any possibility to ponder her options and this is probably what flusters and winds her up the most. "I don't know. That maybe I would have made a different choice!" No. She would have made the same choice and she knows, or at least tries to convince herself, that this has nothing to do with the missed chance of him to come back. And his apparent calm only manages to fuel the flame of her bitterness.

"Why?" A simple question. Or leastwise it sounds like that.

But still waters run deep, and Alicia suspects that with his quietness he's definitely trying to lead her somewhere. "What does that mean?"

"Why would you want to make a different choice?" he asks, in the same calm tone. And she's not entirely sure whether it's really calmness or he's treading the boards.

"Because there is an office there, _empty_, because Diane is still hoping for you to come back." She shouldn't bring Diane in the picture, when their common partner has obviously nothing to do with it. But somehow she hopes that this might hit some susceptible nerve and shake him.

"Great. It's yours!" His voice rises in a fit of frustration.

She succeeded, even though this was not the answer she pictured. "I don't want your office!"

"Then, what?" His tone is lower, yet sore to the brim.

Alicia inhales deeply to simmer down. She moves to the couch, considers sitting down but her nerves are too tense and refuse to obey, forcing her to walk her turmoil off. "That's why we didn't talk? When you came? You didn't want to give me an option?" She tries to keep her temper but her slightly pitched voice comes out fragmented, betraying her bitterness. And when Will takes his time to answer, she gets the confirmation that she's right.

"I didn't want to delude ourselves," he explains.

"Excuses." One single sharp-edged word to take his flimsy defense to pieces.

And the sudden silence screams of unfought defeat.

For an absurdly long amount of time all she can hear is his deep, strained breathing, as she lets herself sink onto the couch, all her hopes beaten.

"What do you want, Alicia?" Of all the questions he could pose, he chose the one she doesn't have an answer to.

Not one that would make sense, that's sure. _What do I want? _"I don't know, but not _this_." _This_ has to be the worst she has felt in a long time, worsened and aggravated by the memory of the volcanic rendezvous from a few weeks ago. _This_ tastes bitter and not what she wants. It's her only certainty, as she takes a deep, silent breath, then shakes her head, eyes closed to lock out the picture of his reaction to what she's about to speak. "Maybe we could… _try_." The words slip out, shrugged tentatively, almost whispered. She bites her upper lip, mentally chastising herself for the audacity of an offer he might not want anymore. Yet, she tries.


	6. Chapter 6

_**A/N: Yes, I know. You were expecting something longer, but I said it was going to be 4/5 chapters and here we are with the sixth and final one. I hope you will enjoy it and thanks for sticking around until the end 3**_

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><p>The first time it happens to be in New York City.<p>

Alicia had dropped the hint she would be there to meet a client and kept her word. Wisely enough she arranged the business meeting on a Friday, so she and Will can make good use of the entire weekend ahead of them.

Comes Friday night, her whole being melts and squeals both in anxiety and anticipation for what she has hopeful trust is a new beginning. Their boilerplate dinner goes exactly as it should; quick and loaded. They've already done far too much damage with words over the last weeks. Any talk about mergers or contracts of any kind is tacitly banned, drown in chilled Cabernet and smothered with persuading kisses. Reality is a thing they'll deal with when its time comes. And that time is definitely not now.

Now is for avid hands ripping off pieces of clothing in the dim moonlight of Alicia's hotel room; now is for exploring lips and tongues rubbing up pined-for skins, morbid curves and solid muscles. Their fingers retrace established paths that were - and will be - never forgotten; they run through the hair, titillate hidden spots and sensitive edges of their bodies. Alicia gasps, breathing harder when he fills her with all the passion he's capable of. The way he lingers inside of her, adjusting to her, it's a pleasantness she'll never weary of. Their breaths get uneven and louder, pulsing rhythmically with each thrust, until the climax steals and holds hostage their last sigh, leaving them consumed and appeased.

That night they refuse to let go of their physical connection. The comfort that each other's proximity provides is a reassurance they'll both be still there in the morning. Same bed. Same familiar scent of love, sex and bare skins. Same placid heartbeats and faint breaths.

In the peace of the morning after they can pretend this weekend is forever. With delicate kisses, Alicia wakens and tickles the man lying by her side. She watches him raise a smile, still in the half-sleep, and thinks that this is exactly how she'd love every day to begin. Her hands venture, from his cheek down his neck, slide down his chest and halt, holding and teasing with a wicked grin the evidence that her morning call was successful. His hands rise and move to brush her hips, the soft roundedness of her ass, then with firmness he lifts her on top of him. He makes a joke about being hungry and she teases him, offering herself as his very special breakfast.

/

The second time falls a week later in the coldest day of Chicago's winter, but in spite of what weather forecasts might have to say, it feels unusually warm.

Alicia decides to wait for Will at the airport. Because that's what a couple does, right? Bring down the time apart. Blended in with the crowd, she basks in the sight of people hugging and kissing, waving goodbye or leaving alone. It's something she never really took the time to do; just stop and stare.

She beams when a familiar figure comes into sight, and surprise pops on Will's face at the unforeseen cordial welcome. A lingering kiss, knees going weak, heads spinning. Her hands rest on his chest until the loudspeaker announces the next boarding and reminds her of their surroundings.

That night, as sleep is late and she lies awake in bed, she wonders where this is meant to go. If it's meant to go somewhere to begin with. It's one year of denial that got annihilated in one single night. Lying prone, her eyes commit to memory the pleasant view, until her gaze encounters his and she realizes he's awake as well. Her embarrassed smile is returned with a soft one, as his fingers move to delicately caress her arm. His mouth opens but fails to put into words whatever is crossing his mind. His eyelids look heavy, but the tenderness behind them tells her that whatever it is he's holding inside, it can't be bad. And if this is a foretaste of how this year – hopefully more - is going to look like, she considers that maybe it was worth eating a slice of humble pie and taking the first step. But when she thinks of the after… No. She doesn't want to think of it. She doesn't want to think of anything that isn't their now. She leans closer, places a delicate kiss on his nose, then cocoons herself against his warm skin. Her next thought remains unfinished, she drifts asleep before it can shape up.

/

The third time is the one she wants to forget and the one she probably never will.

The LG party was meant to celebrate the merger. But the only celebration she now remembers is their utter ineptitude to communicate.

For the days to come, her mind flashes bits of that night; the palpable tension, the taut interactions, the subtle jabbing from a couple of associates. The mudslinging machine seems to work without breaks among them. It was taken for granted they would give her a good run for her money, and likely not only in a metaphoric way. But this was a mean step beyond.

She remembers one too many glasses of champagne, she remembers Will storming into the elevator, followed closely by that guy. Robert? Richard? She should remember the name of Will's partner in New York, but no, it's one unnecessary detail that had to go. And he didn't make it to the elevator in time anyway. Apparently bad timing has another victim. And then… she can't say who started it, but everything that was meant not to be tackled suddenly came home to roost, thundering in the wait for a taxi. And it happened way too soon, neither of them capable to take the blame for something they couldn't understand yet. They had no idea what exactly they were to each other, to which extent people were allowed to know or to be kept in the dark. Because their months together the first time around had taught them that if clandestineness can sometimes be a double-edged sword, going out in the open – whether intentionally or compelled by the events - can be a triggered gun.

She remembers sitting the next day in her office, her old one, because the one thing she had known from the very beginning of this crazy journey back here was that she wanted to be back behind those glass walls that held so many memories and so much significance. Her absent gaze alighted on the growing pile of papers, her mind tried to figure out what she should do while realizing that this was exactly why she had left. Her plea for Cary to not say anything when he walked into her office was wordless but nonetheless very explicit. In the quietness of that late working night, her faint concentration is broken by a discreet presence walking in and by a bottle of cool beer landing on her desk. She smiles at Kalinda and accepts the offer.

/

At first she thought there wouldn't be a fourth time.

For the first bunch of days that followed the _party_, she consumed her sanity weighing the reasons of this failure, until eventually she put all the reasoning past her and plunged deep into her work.

But the two weeks of silence probably made them slowly cool off and get over the worst part of their argument, so when one Saturday morning her doorbell announces an unexpected visit, she is not completely unprepared. She lets him in without uttering a single word, only with the plea in her eyes that all this crazy mess is worth it. She sits and listens with outward calmness to his apologies and mentally jots down to do the same once his speech is over. She knows he's happy for her, but deep down inside it probably hurt him too for reasons she doesn't have a hard time guessing. If they want to make it work, there is a whole load of solidified issues to tear down first.

When the breaks within sentences become longer and longer, she knows he's laid all his cards on the table and now expects her to lay hers. It might not be her best hand but it's all she has, and somehow she makes it work. She's not used to them fighting and making up. All the previous times always ended in the same way; with her running the opposite direction, cursing herself, slapping her image in the mirror. Burning every possible bridge to the ground.

This time she has nowhere to run. Will is standing in _her_ living room, in _her_ apartment and he definitely looks in no hurry to leave. Words take heart and start to flow, incoherent at first, more daring as her thoughts seem to unravel, surfacing and finding their way out more easily. It's more straining than any keynote speech.

But the silence that falls again between them once she's done feels somewhat different. Frazzled to the marrow, but freed from that cloak of fear to see their house of cards collapse on them. A silence that neither of them dares to break for a long while. The only sound is the rustle of the couch creasing under Will's weight as he moves closer and holds her.

/

It's late spring and Chicago is a feast of stars and stripes by the time she braves _the_ topic.

To say in the last few months they have complemented each other would probably be reductive. Like a well-oiled mechanism, they adjust to the beat of their back and forth, work to turn the distance from an enemy into a friend with all the means they are given. And there are times in which she thinks it's fun, even exciting. They sure know how to keep the stoke alive and burning hot, and to fuel the anticipation.

The days apart definitely make those spent together more intense with each week, but at the same time, they start to blaze fast and not suffice. The separations get tormented, sometimes painful in a physical way. The rumble of the plane taking off starts to deafen her heart, and the knot in her stomach getting tighter and tighter tells her that the time has come to change the rules. She fears a fall that would be too late to avoid anyway. She needs a certainty. And in a moment of resolution, she brings up his contract.

_Come back_. She doesn't word it but they both know her request is implied.

His silence lasts longer than her fortitude can take, his sigh sinks its teeth deep into her hopes. _There are things I need to fix, first_.

And she's not sure if it's good or bad, but for her own sanity, she wants to believe the first._ Then fix them_. She doesn't beg, or plead. It's a firm request.

_I will_.

And he does.

/

When the plane lands in a snow-clad Chicago, she smiles to herself. _He hates the snow_. And it could even turn into an avalanche that it wouldn't take away anything of the happiness brimming from his eyes as their looks meet in the airport's traffic. Her mind doesn't start the excruciating and unconscious countdown to the next plane leaving. This time he's here to stay.

That weekend they stay apart. She gives him time to settle back, waits impatiently, struggles to curb the tingling of happiness.

Comes Monday, her steps lead her through the LG hall, trailing the once accustomed path to his _office_. And he's there. With her coffee mug in her hands, ready to be sipped, she frames him from behind, as he's intent on setting some books in the bookcase. With slow, meticulous movements, he places them one by one, definitely unaware of his silent spectator. She tilts her head lightly to the left and smiles. In amusement, in gladness, in all the reasons that make the image in front of her _right_.

It's very early in the morning, most of the associates won't be here for another hour at least. She glances at Diane's office. Her camel coat is not yet hanging down her hat stand, a sign that she's not arrived yet. Noiselessly, she takes the few steps still separating her from Will's office and knocks gently on the jamb to warn him of her presence.

He halts, the last book still in his hands, then smiles.

"I wanted that seat but they told me it was reserved," she jokes, as she walks further inside and puts the mug on his desk.

And there was a time in which these words hurt both, a time when he would believe them, a time when probably she thought them, too. Only briefly.

His nod is amused, but she can already read in the slyness behind his gaze that the payback won't delay. She watches him setting the last book in its place, then moving closer to her. His features are tensed in a pretended gravity but the glint in his eyes betrays him. It's something that will never change. Like the subdued, restrained smile that illuminates her face as he stops, only inches away from her, that feeling of confidence and intimacy, of tacit understanding. "It's good to have you back," she whispers.

He's back where he belongs, in every possible way.

"It's good to be back," he agrees.

And there is some sort of déjà-vu in those words but she can't remember if they were already spoken in some previous life or if it's just her mind tricking her. Not that it matters.

His return is celebrated with clinging mugs toasting to their lives finally being exactly as they should.


End file.
